Controlled Burn (Blackbridge Security 8)

I’m used to doing things on my own. I learned long ago that depending on others just leaves me brokenhearted and alone in the long run. I can’t help but open my legs, my arms, and my heart, when he’s got that devious look in his eyes, but my legs are the only part of me that should be involved. That’s how I feel anyway.

I need to stop reading more into what he does, like helping with the kids and always being there when I need to chat. He’s present, something Ty never was, and it’s seriously messing with my head. That’s why I made the appointment today to look at a house, but as I drive through the neighborhood, I hear Finn’s voice in my ears. I didn’t tell him the house I found in my price range since I have the urge to get out sooner rather than waiting to save more money for a larger down payment is in Mount Pleasant. It’s one of the top five worst neighborhoods in St. Louis, but I can’t afford one of the better places and escape with my entire heart intact.

People loiter on street corners, some houses look like they’re nearly falling down, and a good majority of the businesses are still closed even decades after the financial crash. It hasn’t bounced back like so many other places, and that’s beyond concerning.

Traffic to get from the condo to here has taken much more time than I allowed for, and despite having hopes I could attend this meeting and still make it to the kids’ school in time for pickup has dwindled to nothing as I pull into the cracked, concrete driveway.

I debate even getting out of the car at the sight of the rundown place. I knew it was going to be a fixer upper just by the ad online. There was no way for the realtor to hide the warped front porch or the stained carpet, but the price is a steal.

With a sigh, I pull out my phone and do something I never thought I’d have to do. I shoot off a text to Finn to see if he can grab the kids from school since I won’t make it in time. When he responds that he can, I place the call to the school to add him to the pickup list. The woman on the phone seems a little put out that she’d have to relay a message for me but agrees that she will. Finn’s condo is in a nice neighborhood. The school district is supposed to be excellent, yet I catch hell for needing to make a transportation change. Maybe she’s having a bad day. It makes me concerned for how things would be at the school my kids would have to attend if I buy this house. As if giving me an ominous warning, a tree branch breaks free from the decayed tree to the left of the porch and falls to the ground.

Still unsure if I should get out of the car, I can’t help but think about the people I have in my life.

Ezra moved away, and he’s the only living relative I have. My friends peeled off one by one after I spent so much time with Ty. My ex was a total dick to everyone, and looking back, I can now tell that he was systematically separating me from everyone I knew. He either wanted to be able to control me easier or he was just a bitter asshole who didn’t want me to have any joy in my life. Since he left, I’ve focused on the kids and nothing else. Losing friends hurt, and I didn’t want to put myself in that position again.

I guess I can count Finn because I know he’d do anything to help me but leaning on him too much will ultimately push him away as well. People who give and never receive don’t stick around long, and I don’t have anything to offer the man besides sex. Even that will grow old when it’s paired with three rambunctious kids taking up more of my time than anything else.

Movement on the porch draws my attention, and I give the realtor a small wave, clenching my jaw at wasting time sitting here because now I have to climb out and look at this house. I lost my window of escape, but I can make this quick. If I only spend a few minutes here, I can possibly still make it to the school for the kids. Finn will be less bitter if I’m able to handle my parental duties on my own.

“Good afternoon,” I tell the woman as I climb out of my car.

Her face is pinched as if she regrets being here as well.

“Kendall Stewart,” I say, holding out my hand.